Discworld: Assassins and Fanatics
by Gorvar
Summary: The story of three Watchmen getting involved in a plot to destroy Ankh-Morpork, you know...the usual.
1. Chapter 1

Like all stories of this genre belong, takes place in a fantastical world. A world full of dragons, knights, maidens in distress and dwarfs with gender issues. This is a story which takes place in what we narrarators call 'The Discworld'.

The Discworld is, as it sounds like in the name, a large Disc rested upon the shoulders of four large elephants (There were five, but that is a different story) who in turn stand on top of the carapace of the massive turtle Great A'tuin.

Nobody knows where A'tuin is going, but then again no-one on the Discworld cared, after all they all had other things to worry about in their daily lives.

The Disc is massive, about 10 000 miles across and about 30 miles deep at the rim, capable of supporting all kinds of life.

Humans, dwarfs, elves, witches, wizards (the excuse 'Wizards did it' is very plausible on the disc if something needs explaining) trolls, birds, caterpillars and so on and so forth.

Back to the story then!

What for exciting adventure will we have today? The previously mentioned Knight who sets off on a quest to free a maiden from the clutches of a evil dragon in a ultimate representation of Good vs Evil? Unfortunately said dragons do not exist in this reality, and quite frankly it would be quite silly since a man dressed in metal armour would have a million in one chance to survive said encounter or be daft enough to go out on said quest.

No, our adventure totally is much simpler, it deals with intrigue and shadows, betrayal and cunning which can only be found in the city of Ankh-Morpork, the (to some loyal fanatics who would yell at tourists for hours until they made their point across) greatest city of the Disc.

Ankh-Morpork is without doubt the largest city with around one million inhabitants, and of course with a city that size one needs a large police force to counter the (unlicensed) thefts, murders and other more morally innocent trespasses.

Our story follows three members of this 'Ankh-Morpork City Watch' who stumble upon the major catalyst to get a plot going, a death.

Wiona looked around the street anxiously as the city lanterns were lit. The wizards of the Unseen Academy asked the Patrician several times to lit them themselves by magical means, but after the Pink Hippo accident, which no Ankh-Morpork Citizen wishes to talk about to outsiders, but for now old man Jenkins was still in charge.

'Evening Mister Jenkins.' A man who walked next to Wiona said as he tipped his steel helmet at the elderly fellow.

'Evenin' youngsters.' The elderly man replied.

Mister Jenkins was probably the eldest still working person in Ankh-Morpork, in the world it would be the Barbarian named Cohen which is again another story, so it wasn't uncommon for calling everyone youngster.

Wiona smiled weakly as she tipped her black pointy hat. She was a young girl, around her twenties one might've guessed, with a fair face (smile included) and wore a black robe (modified to make walking easier) with the City Watch badge embedded on it and said black pointy hat.

Walking next to her was a man, late twenties, who wore a steel helmet, a steel chest plate embedded with the same badge and a sword and baton on both sides of his belt. The third member of this patrol was, with the best of descriptions, a walking piece of rock with assorted limbs. A troll, no idea how one could measure age with their kind other then getting a geophysicist.

Like the man he had the same helmet and chest plate (although it was modified for the torso) along with the badge.

The badges were eight-pointed copper stars, with the city coat-of-arms in the centre.

There was a sentence writing around the arms from a dead language, but none of these three Watchmen knew it's meaning.

'I've never seen the city at night before...' Wiona said.

'I have, trust me you wont like walking around in it for long.' The man replied.

'If you say so, Constable De Schacht.'

'Call me Maurice.' The man smiled.' After all your in the Watch now, isn't that right Malachite?'

The man turned to see the troll, but found him/her/it staring at them with a blank expression.

'Right.' Maurice took the silence as a yes.

'Alright then, Maurice.' Wiona smiled back.' So, what happens on these patrols anyway?'

'Well not much, we just keep walking around for eight hours, we check back in aaaand...that's it really.'

'We just walk?'

'And stop anyone we see from committing crimes if they do not have a permit.'

'Permits?' she blinked.

'Well yes, you see the Patrician, the guy who runs this place, made crime organised. Thieves can steal stuff if they are members of the thieves guild and people can kill other people if they are part of a Assassins guild.'

'That's horrible!'

'Makes things easier for us though.'

'Yes.'

The two humans looked back at their troll colleague who only now caught up to their conversation.

'Welcome back Malachite, we missed you.' Maurice chuckled.' How was memory lane?'

'Familiar.'

'Bet it was.'

The three stopped as they heard a window crash and the shrill scream of a woman.

'That's one street away, come on!' Maurice said and led the two other Watchmen to what might be the scene of a crime.

When the trio arrived a small crowd was gathered around something.

'Flip out your badges.' Maurice told his peers as he took out his.

'Step back everyone!' he started shoving people away as nicely as possible.' Ankh-Morpork City Watch, clear a path here people.'

Wiona flashed her badge as well and followed her peers in the gap which the crowd was circled around.

She gasped as she saw her first dead body, and a black leather clad man with a hood which covered his face was stood above it as he searched it.

'Assassins guild business eh?' Maurice sighed.' I thought you lot were supposed to be quiet.'

'Keep yourselves out of this.' The assassin glared.' This isn't your business.'

'Oh pardon me, I am Constable Maurice, these are Lance Constables Wiona and Malachite of the City Watch, I do believe this is our business. Name and license please.'

The assassin took our a piece of paper and gave it to Constable De Schacht.

'Grumpy...' Maurice said softly.

'A man just got killed, and your letting him walk?' Wiona shouted.' I thought you were the police?'

'It's guild business Wiona, nothing we can...' he stopped.

'What?'

'This isn't a real license.'

Maurice nudged the assassin.' Sir, I need a real license.'

The assassin kept searching something from the body. Wiona took a closer look. It was a man of age, wealthy guessing of the fine clothing. She saw several stab wounds in the chest area, this assassin was very sloppy it seemed.

'Sir, name and License, please.' Maurice drew his sword.' Last warning.'

As if he enraged a animal the assassin growled and drew his daggers, in a blink of an eye they were stopped as they were embedded in Malachite's left arm.

'Your coming with us!' The Constable said as he used the flat side of his blade to knock the assassin against the ground, unconcious. 'Wiona, cuff 'em.'

'How did you know it wasn't a real license?' she asked as she used her metal cuffs to ensnare the villain.

'Different paper, stamp is all wrong...and they spelled 'Assassin's guild' wrong.'

'What did it spell?'

He showed her the license which made her smirk.

'Malachite, stay with the body, I'll send the guys from the nearby Watchhouse this way, alright buddy?'

The troll merely stood in place near the body.

'Alright...' Maurice took the prisoner by one arm and Wiona by the other as they dragged him away.

'Malachite doesn't talk much.' She said.

'I know, he's very quiet like for a Troll, sharp on reflexes though.'

'I didn't even see those daggers, how did he?'

'I think he just focuses on the area around him and act on it if something like that would happen. Trolls get a bit slow in the noggin' if it gets warm y'know, silicon based brains and all that'

The two Watchmen dragged the prisoner away as the crowd dispersed by the sheer intimidating sight of a Troll on watch.

'So...where are you from?' Wiona asked as to break the ice.

'Oh...around.' Maurice replied.' Here, there...Everywhere. Except Borogravia, that place is bloody awfull. Civil wars all the time...'

'I mean, where were you born?'

'Somewhere.'

'...you are hiding something aren't you?'

'Let's just say the reason why I can recognize licences from fake ones, and several other dodgy practises were a means to survive a while ago, before I joined the Watch.'

'Your not a assassin to are you?'

'What, no! Of course not...had to run from 'em though. Six bloody months...'

The assassin groaned as he started to wake up.

'Oh hello sleepy head.' Maurice said.' Pleasant dreams?'

The Assassin blinked behind his hood. He glanced left...then right...then started to break free.

'Let me go!' he shouted.

'Oh, okay sure, you only had to ask.'

'Really?' The assassin blinked.

'No, this is what they call sarcasm, it's when you make fun of a obvious situation.'

'He's not very bright for a Assassin..' Wiona remarked. 'In fact...your not a Assassin are you?'

'What, of course I am, I got hired to kill that man!'

'You do not own a license, you do not act like a trained professional killer. In fact you only got the weapons of one.'

'Which are no doubt stolen.' Maurice glared.' When we get back to the Watchhouse we-'

The Assassin shot back and dragged the watchmen with them as he was hit by a unseen force.

Wiona shrugged the dizziness of as she took her hat and put it back on. She gazed at the large arrow in the man's chest, a bolt from a crossbow.

She heard Maurice groan as he slowly got to his feet.' Wha...-'

Wiona was a Witch, and one thing a Witch learned from early one was to use what they called, Headology, a practice of magic which can turn a hardened criminal into a faithful hard working father of three, or in this case making a bolt from a crossbow that was headed toward them self combust.

'Somebody is firing at us, rooftop!' Wiona shouted.

'Got it.'

The Constable immediately got his feet and ran towards the other side of the building.

He climbed up the buildings like a professional burglar, which he might have been in a pre-Watch live, until a window next to him opened, with a surprised woman in her night gown staring at him.

'Urghm...hello.' Maurice said clumsily.' Constable Maurice of the City Watch, any complaints?'

The woman shrieked and slapped him across the face.

'...dully noted.' He replied as he resumed his climb upstairs.

He crawled over the rooftop where he saw the mysterious assailant firing bolt after bolt at Wiona below.

The Constable grinned and drew both his weapons as he charged toward the assailant as quietly, since he did wear a lot of metal, as possible.

The assailant had sharp hearing however and turned around to meet the Watchmen.

'Ankh-Morpork city watch, drop that crossbow NOW!'

'I only listen to the words of God!' the assailant replied as he loaded another bolt.

'Well you can also listen to my club of justice!'

The Constable sliced the crossbow in twain with his sword as his baton clipped the mysterious assailant over the head.

The assailant stumbled back, his feet touching the very edge of the roof which divided him from said roof and the 30 second neck braking fall.

He looked over his shoulder...and grinned.

'You have nowhere to go pal, keep your hands in the air, your under arrest.'

'You fool...' the crossbowmen said.' Do you not understand, this city is going to end...'

'If I had a copper coin for every person who said that...' Maurice said.' Look, if your part of a cooky cult don't do it, they're not worth it.'

'My god demands no failure.'

'I can demand failure, I don't mind, I'm a failure myself, so why don't we just step away from the edge and have a drink, failure to failure.'

Maurice offered his free hand.' Please?'

The man stared at the hand.

'Come on...you don't have to do this pal...'

'I do...' in a blink of an eye he took Maurice's hand.' And you will join me!'

The assailant fell down as he dragged Maurice with him.

'MAURICE!' Wiona shouted as she held out her hands. Witches didn't use magic a lot, they rather wanted to use their own wits and smart to handle crisis, but it seemed she had to break that taboo if she didn't wish to lose her colleague.

As if the very essence of Deus Ex Machina itself, Maurice floated to the ground gently as the assailant smacked down on the ground. Maurice ran over to the victim as he checked his vitals.

'Dead...gods damnit...' Maurice cursed.

'You alright?' Wiona asked as she ran over.' Is...is he..?'

'Dead...yes.' Maurice took a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.' Thanks for the save.'

'Your welcome...Gods...I never saw a dead body before, let alone three in one night!'

'Welcome to the Watch, Wiona.'

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

'Well...' the dwarf spoke after a long while.' I can defiantly say these people are dead.'

'REALLY?' Maurice said.' I wouldn't have guessed...other then the multiple stab wounds in the noble's torso, the big bolt in the assassin's chest which sticks out like a bloomin' mast and the last guy's head now located in his stomach.'

The dwarf, who despite her beard, wore rather feminine Watchmen attire, unsurprising for a human female, but very surprising for the conservative dwarf. It was only until recent dwarfs had to conceal their gender from each other, for acting otherwise it would have been un-dwarfish.

But thanks to Cheery Littlebottom, the dwarf who made the rather stunning statement just now, the revolution of dwarf emancipation began with make up, ear rings and leather skirts as their weapons.

'What I try to say is...' Cheery said.' Whoever wanted these men dead paid no expense to make sure they would be dead. The Noble here was killed with Assassin type weaponry, but it's not Assassin weaponry.'

'How do you mean?' Wiona asked.

'Well, Assassins make their own weapons and have their own brand, they are rather elitist in that way. This Assassin on the other hand used weapons similar to the ones the Assassins use, but it's not those particular weapons.'

'So your saying someone made these daggers to look like the ones the Assassins use?' Maurice asked.

'Exactly.' Cheery replied.' And only the weapon smith's of the Assassins Guild know how to create this type of dagger.'

'So we're looking at a former weapon smith then...' Maurice rubbed his chin.' What other leads could you find on them?'

The dwarf flicked another page.

'Well we don't know who the noble is yet, but you were correct that the paper was all wrong.'

'Of course I was.'

'But you don't know what kind of paper this is, right?'

'Of course I don't.'

'Well this paper is from a rare tree which hails from Klatch.'

'Klatch, but that's a desert place isn't it?' Wiona eluded to the continent south of Ankh-Morpork.

'Not really, there are quite a few jungles there as well, from which this tree hails from.'

'So the tree this paper came from was brought over from Klatch?'

'That's right, we all know Ankh-Morpork rather wants to make their own goods.'

Maurice pondered.

'Right...thanks Cheery, I'll give Captain Carrot my report the moment he comes back on his little 'vacation'.

'I will.' The dwarf replied with a smile and put the bodies away as she began to work on a other case.

Wiona walked with Maurice outside the City Watch building as they were greeted by the rain.

'I didn't know Captain Carrot went on vacations.' Wiona said.

'He doesn't, he's going after his lady-friend Angua.'

'Who?'

'She's a rather good looking woman who has a rather strange problem every other month which makes her think she's unsuitable for him.'

The witch paused.

'All women have that pro-'

'She's a werewolf.'

'Oooooooooh...'

'I need to rephrase that more often.' Maurice said.' Anyways, we got two clues to go on.'

'The rogue weapon smith and the paper?'

'Bingo.'

'What?'

'Bingo, it's a other word for 'correct.'

'Why don't you just say correct, then?'

'Because it sounds so lifeless.'

'Well you also have 'yes' or 'your right' or-'

'Look, Bingo is my thing okay?'

'Alright, alright...so two leads.'

'Right, let's get Malachite and another friend of ours, we'll check the rogue weapon smith, they the paper.'

'Why not the other way around?'

'Let's just say I had a little accident there last time I visit...it involved a cat and a small barrel of explosives. Rather don't want to talk about it.'

'Oh...' she raised her brow.

'A lot of people really liked that cat.'

Malachite knocked on the door, which nearly broke.

' Oo 'ave 'o be 'o'o careful, Malachite.' The stone creature next to the troll said.

For those who do not understand this weird accent, do not fret, not many can speak or understand Gargoyle tongue (Having your mouth wide open and not being able to bring it down does give one a speech problem).

'Malachite be careful, door not break.' The troll replied.

The Gargoyle shake his head as the door opened.

'I have no time for idio-' the man with the leather apron stopped midway his sentience as he saw both Watchmen in their uniform.' Oh, I'm very, very sorry Officers, please come in.'

'Thank you.' Malachite replied and came in the paper factory.

As the two looked around they saw plenty of people working on cutting branches of the trees or throwing large portions of wood into a machine. To explain how paper is made you will have to read something else I'm afraid, after all this is a Discworld story.

'How can I help you officers?' the man asked scared.

'Lance Constable Malchite.' The troll pointed himself.' Lance Constable Pleuvoir.' He pointed to the Gargoyle, he took out the fake license.' Somebody made this, ordered, want know who, Mister Allen.'

'Oh...well I'm sorry sirs but as you know we don't print illegal things like that here.'

'This only factory with paper like this, only factory that makes licenses, someone made it here, who?'

The one thing you have to know of trolls...they are quite frightening, especially if they wear a uniform of authority.

'I...some man asked us to print these off the other day, he gave us a ridiculous amount of money, no name, no address...'

'He co'ing 'ack 'ome oth' 'ime?' Pleuvoir asked, but only received a confused look from Mister Allen.

'Pleuvoir means, is he coming back some other time?'

'Oh...well...maybe tomorrow night.' The man replied.' He just gives a period of three days when he'll show up.'

'Good, thank you for co-operation.' Malachite said and walked out of the factory with his Gargoyle friend.

'I 'ont t'ust hi'. Pleuvoir said.

'Malachite to...something fish here.'

' 'Ish?'

'Yeah, when something suspi...suspi...weird, it's fish.'

''Ought I' is s'ells li'e 'ish.'

'Smells like Fish? Why that weird?'

The Gargoyle merely shrugged.

Maurice closed the door behind him as Wiona squeezed her hat to squeeze the rain water out.

'Does it always rain like this in Ankh-Morpork?'

'Not really.' Maurice replied.' Gives the Ankh River some needed water though, you can only sail on that much dirt.'

'How do you mean?'

'The Ankh river is more dirt then water, so a little rain does help bring balance to the dirt-water ratio.'

'Do you ever stop giving useless facts?'

'Kind of hard if you worked as a tour guide for three months.'

'A tour guide?'

'Yes, I was a tour guide back in Überwald for a group of bored vampires.'

'Oh, did you get paid well?'

'They wouldn't suck my blood if I did a good job, so...'

'Ah...I was in a Coven for most of my life back in Lancre.'

'Lancre, small kingdom up North, right?'

'Bingo.'

'Oh, your using my word now?'

She smirked as she put her hat back on. 'Your contact is here then?'

Maurice nodded and dropped the 'Bingo' incident...for now.

'He's one of the Watch's best snitches, if anything criminal happens in this city and the Patrician doesn't know, he knows.'

'What's his name?'

'Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler.'

Wiona blinked.

'You mean the man who sells those awfull sausages in a bun?'

'Honestly I don't know why everyone hates those sausages, they are not that bad. I buy loads for lunch!'

'They smell like poop and taste like poop!'

'You don't have any taste buds...'

'Me and the rest of the Disc do, it's just you who doesn't.'

The two continued to argue like a old married couple, which confused the passers by, until a sudden shout alerted them.

'That's Dibbler, come on!' Maurice shouted and ran through the corridor. They pushed people aside while flashing their badges, which to Wiona seemed to get more fun every day, until they came across a small shop with a plague which read 'Honest (was crossed several times) Dibbler's Random goods emporium.'

The sounds of a scuffle sounded inside the shop, without any delay Maurice kicked the door open.

'Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Freeze!'

The dark clothed figure held his/her daggers at the throat of a, what could only be described as a weaseley, man.

The figure paused...then took the man and held the dagger close to the man's throat.

'One step and he gets it.' the feminine voice said.

'Look lady, calm down, just put the dagger down.'

'I'm not going to jail!'

'Look...we know his sausages aren't that well flavoured for the general public...'

'Hey!' Dibbler exclaimed.

'But that's no reason to kill him.'

'This is not about those awfull sausages!' the wanna be Assassin shouted.

'They are not awfull, I only use the best meats to-'

'Shut up!' she shouted.' I was hired to kill him.'

'Well show us your license then.'

The wanna be assassin hesitated

'You don't have a license do you?' Wiona asked, to which the woman shook her head. 'Look...we know your predecessor got killed for this, but we can protect you, we can find your boss and make sure nothing bad happens to you or yours.'

'You...you can do that?'

Wiona nodded.' Yes, I promise...please let that man go.'

The Assassin nodded and let the man go who immediately ran over to Maurice.

'You alright Dibbler?' Maurice asked.

'No of course not, look at my shop!'

Maurice merely chuckled.' He's fine.'

Wiona nodded and cuffed the Assassin.' What's your name?'

'Lucy...Lucy Beddingfield.'

'Well Lucy, you come with us to the station and we'll work this out, alright?'

'Alright...'

The Constable blinked.

'How did you do that, magic?'

'Do what?'

'Convince her to give herself in.'

'Oh, headology.'

'Like crawling into one's head and making them do what you want?'

'Bingo.'

'Ok seriously stop that.'

'What, you do not own the rights to say 'Bingo'.'

'I can sell those y'know.' Dibbler stated.' Only fifteen dollar.'

The two Watchmen stared at the salesmen.

'What?'

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

'Morning Miss Beddingfield.'

The captured assassin did not flinch as Constable Maurice and Lance Constable Malachite entered the interrogation room. Beddingfield was sat on end of the wooden table as the two watchmen sat down on their end.

'Sleep well?' Maurice asked.

'I'm not going to tell you anything.' Lucy glared.

'I take that as a no, I know the cell beds aren't that great but I almost managed to convince Commander Vimes to replace them.'

The assassin merely glared.

'Right then, what I have with me here.' Maurice waved a small bundle of papers in his hand.' Are your exam results from the Guild of Assassins...you had a spectacular result of 23 percent.'

Lucy's stone cold expression didn't change.

'If your wondering how we got your rapport card, well let's just say we have ways to convince people.'

Still no reply.

'Lady look...your pretty safe here from anyone that can hurt you, please tell us who hired you so we can put him to justice.'

'What do I get out of this?' she asked.

'Well your not getting killed for starters, and your parents wont know...'

'My... parents?' her composure seemed to fade for a moment.

'Yes, the ones who believe their daughter is a excellent assassin in the Guild's employ...we can help you finance another go at the Guild and actually get you your license to kill, but you need to help us Lucy.'

'Your...your lying, the City Watch cant fund people.'

'Who said anything about the Watch?' Maurice asked.' I was talking about myself and Malachite here.'

He pointed to his troll friend.' We both have some money set aside, we can help you get back to your feet.'

'Why would you do this?'

'Because I know how you feel Lucy Beddingfield, I know how it feels to be a outcast, running away, living day by day. I can give you the chance I never got, your second chance.'

'Your lying.'

Malachite slammed his hand on the table which made it snap in two. Both Maurice and Lucy bolted back.

'The hell Malachite?' Maurice shouted.

'You talk now, or be like table.' The troll glared.

'Alright, alright!' Lucy said.' I don't know who hired me, but I know the name of my contact!'

'Who?' the troll said in a threatening way, but then again trolls always speak in threatening ways.

'You promise you'll fund me right?'

'You have my word.' Maurice replied.

The assassin sighed.

'His name is Harry S. Ford.'

'The fedora hat salesmen?' Maurice asked.

'He's in cahoots with my real employer, only he knows who he is.'

'Thank you.' Malachite stood up and left the room.

As Maurice went to rise Lucy held out her hand.

'You'll keep your promise, right?'

'I'm a member of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Of course I will. Besides as one former criminal to another...honour amongst thieves y'know.'

She nodded as he walked out.

'You speak truth?' the troll asked.

'About?' Maurice replied.

'You criminal.'

'Bits and pieces...i've had to do a lot of nasty things to stay alive until I got recruited here...a lot of things I do not like talking about.'

'You talk to Wiona about those things.'

Maurice seemed to blush for a moment.' I..have no idea what your talking about.'

'You, Wiona talk a lot.'

'Well only because you or Pleuvoir don't or hardly.'

'Malachite or Pleuvoir not woman, you like Wiona.'

'No I don't!' Maurice snapped. 'What makes you think that?'

'You argue married couple.'

'If anything that enforces the belief we don't like each other malachite.'

'No, it special.' Malachite said.' Angry words but deep down filled with liking, like gold ores in boulders thrown at dwarfs.'

Maurice stood still for a moment.

'...what?'

'Manner speech for trolls.' The troll nodded.

'Uh-huh...' Maurice walked with Malachite to the cafeteria.' Well I don't like her.'

'Do.'

'I don't, I mean...her hat is silly!' they got in the queue for their lunch.

'You blush when she not looking.'

'Her hat is silly!' Maurice took a plate.

'She blush when you not looking.'

'It's all pointy like, I mean, what does that proof!' He grabbed some ham and the gray slop called 'mashed potatoes'.

'You say Wiona name when slee-'

'I cant hear you, lalala lalala lalal-'

Maurice stopped as he saw a small group of the younger Watchmen stare at him.

'What are you lot looking at, scram!'

The group immediately walked off.

'You nicer to.'

'Because she's a Witch, where I come from we respect witches, they turned me into a newt once.'

'A newt?'

'Well...I got better.'

The two sat down as they begun their lunch.

Wiona stretched as she woke up followed by a strain of curses as she got to her feet and made her way to her small kitchen. She lived in a small apartment near the Watch house she was stationed in. it wasn't much, four rooms, among one bathroom, a bed room, a sitting room and a kitchen. Because it wasn't much the rent wasn't much either.

She made herself a cup of coffee while she still cursed like a sailor, if there was one thing Wiona was not, it was a morning person. Thankfully the sudden flu of curse words always stopped after two cups of coffee.

She opened her door which led to the corridor of the apartment where she was greeted by several other tenants.

'Morning Miss Wiona.' A skeleton raised his skull from between his shoulders as if it was a hat.

'Beautiful day isn't it?' a talking bear asked with a smile.

Wiona yawned as she scratched her back and bend down to pick up her paper. Midway she stopped to read the headline...

Her grip on the coffee cup loosened and ten minutes later a angry house lord came complaining of the coffee drenched on the corridor carpet, but found the apartment empty as Wiona left as soon as she could.

She made her way past the other watchmen when she ran toward the desk where a pale skinned male in watch men armor but wore a extravagant cloak was sat doing his nails.

'Edward, Corporal De Schacht, where is he?' she gasped.

'We knew you two like each other, but for gods sake girl, get a ho-'

'WE'RE NOT TOGETHER TELL ME WHERE HE IS BEFORE I TURN YOU INTO A NEWT!'

'Relax relax.' The man tsk-ed.' You mortals are all so feisty when your trapped...he is in the cafeteria.'

'Thank you.' Wiona said as calmly as he could before she ran off.

'Thirty dollars ta one they end up together by the end of the month.' A dwarf said as he came to clock himself in.

'You wish to join the pool then Edward?'

'Dere is a pool, Eddy?'

'I prefer you call me Edward or Count Edward if you will, but yes there is, almost everyone entered.'

'Right I'm in.'

'Splendid.' Edward took a separate piece of paper and write it down.

'Why do yer care anyway?'

'Oh, watching people fall in love brings joy to my not beating heart...always ensures more offspring for me to suck blood out of.'

'Ah, almost thought we lost ya dere eddy.'

'Edward.'

The witch ran toward he cafeteria.

She stopped at the entrance, she glanced left and right before she spotted them. 'Maurice!' she shouted and ran toward their table.

'Urghm...hello Wiona.' He blinked.' Isn't it supposed to be your day off?'

'Look at this.' She gave him the news paper.

'If this is about me losing that wager on the foot-the-ball match last night I swear I'll pay you back la-'

'Just read the headline.' She said annoyed while she took Maurice's food.

Maurice let her as he opened the news paper.

'You let Wiona eat your food.' Malachite said.' You not allow that to others.'

'She's a witch Malachite, have to be respectful.' Maurice flipped open the paper.' Page?'

'Twelve.' She replied between bites.

'Malachite think you two like each ot-'

'NO WE DON'T!' both exclaimed at the same time.' SHUT UP!'

The two looked at each other.

'Don't say what I say.' Both said at the same time.' Stop it, no you stop it!'

'Paper.' Malachite reminded the two.

'Oh right.' Maurice flipped the page number open.

It was a story on the noble that was killed two days ago, the one the clumsily assassin killed and got killed himself a bit later.

'Well the Ankh-Morpork journalists dropped the ball if they just found out he-'

'They found out who he is.' Wiona pointed at a line.' You recognize his name?'

Maurice read it out loud.

'Lord Terrence de...' he stopped midway.

'What?' Malachite asked confused.' Who?'

'Lord Terrence de Schacht...' he dropped the paper.' He was my uncle...'

'You knew him?' Wiona asked.' But you didn't say anything when you saw the corpse-'

'I know his name, him and I wrote to each other, he was the one who suggested that I should travel to Ankh Morpork.'

'You two pen palls?' Malachite asked.' He be Lord, that means you-'

'Stop!' Maurice said.' I don't want to talk about it, not here, not now...'

He paused.' Go to the morgue, tell Cherry we know who he is, me and Wiona will meet up with you there.'

The troll nodded and walked off as Maurice sighed and placed his head in his hands.

'You alright?' Wiona asked concerned.

'No...how can it be the press has sources here, but we don't have sources in the press, gods sake!'

'Was he related to you?'

Maurice motioned Wiona to get up.' I'll tell you on the way.' He took a spoonful of the mashed potatoes and led the way to the morgue.

The Watchhouse was several blocks away from the morgue, which was most ideal if one wanted to unveil the past of a character to help the plot forward.

'Lord Terrence de Schacht was my uncle.' Maurice said to Wiona.' He decided to life here while the rest of my family decided to stay at home.'

'You can say your from Lancre to Maurice.' Wiona smirked.

The Corperal blinked at her.' How did you-' he coughed.' I have no idea what you are talking about.'

'Oh PLEASE, I found out the moment we met, you respect witches, you avoid walking under ladders and you excuse yourself after bumping into a tree. Now only superstitious people that excuse themselves to trees only do that after they met a walking tree. And where can you find walking trees with plenty of superstious folk?'

'Lancre...' Maurice answered.' That's some fine police work.'

'Witches are good thinkers, way better then Wizards. We think for a reason while Wizards just think.'

'What brings a great Witch such as yourself here then?'

'I have my reasons...which currently don't have anything to do with this case, now your uncle.'

Maurice sighed.

'Right...my uncle was the only one who kept in contact with me after a...incident which forced me to leave Lancre. He gave me locations where to go, send me money, hints to avoid assassins and such...'

'Assassins?' she exclaimed.' What kind of incident did you do?'

'...your using headology now aren't you?

'Maybe...spill it.'

'To keep it short, I was going to elope with a girl I fell in love with, but she decided to elope with a vampire , who could sparkle for some reason, who in turn eloped with some other girl ,who had no self esteem whatsoever, who were followed by a werewolf. Of course the girl I was with had a very rich merchant father who wanted me dead, so I ended up running away for quite some time.'

'How long?'

'About ten years or so.'

'Oh...that...that's sad.'

'It was actually very funny...other then getting my heart pulled out and stamped one because of that **** Vanessa Rawlins...but very hilarious adventures still.'

'You almost got killed by vampires!'

'You had to be there really.'

'How does this turn in with your uncle?'

'Well after a few years he suggested I should go to Ankh-Morpork and make a living there, he said the City Watch could use men of my 'talent'.'

'How come you didn't went to see him?'

'Well it took me a while to get here, being chased by assassins and all, and my uncle never really gave a address. I tried to look for him but I never found him.'

'Until now.'

'Until now...'

'You want to get off this case then?' Wiona asked.

'No, this became personal. We'll find out who killed my uncle and-'

'MAURICE? WIONA!'

Both looked up...well down rather as Cherry ran her way toward them.

'You'll never believe who had a speedy recovery?'

'You mean Ronaldo will get better and join the Ankh Walkers for the disc finals next month?'

'No nobody can heal from a broken off leg silly...I mean the dead noble of course!'

'Wait...he got better...from dying?'

'Yup.' She smiled.' He's a zombie now, he's been asking for you...and brains of course, he was a bit hungry.'

The three made their way in the morgue as they walked down the stairs...where they were greeted by a rotting corpse in fancy clothing and Malachite.

'Ah Maurice my boy.' The zombie tried to smile as much as his cheek muscles could allow.' It's good to finally see you, well post-mortem, but still good to see you.'

'Uncle Terrence?' Maurice blinked.

'The one and only, now I heard from your troll friend here your trying to find my killer, allow me to help...'

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

If not for the pale skin and the gaps in his torso, one could not have assumed this noble would be dead. He was charming, polite and quite sauve. You had to be those things if you were a noble, if you weren't you would be called a Duke and be send on some war somewhere to uphold Ankh-Morpork's 'ideals' and nobody wanted that, especially Ankh-Morpork.

From a distance the late Lord Terrence De Schacht sounded like a charming man, it was only when you saw him up close devouring the brain of a monkey you might have figured out he might not be that charming, at least in his eating manners, post-mortem people seem to forget their table manners it seems.

'Right.' Terrence licked his fingers off.' What are your leads so far Nephew Maurice?'

'Well...' Maurice had to look away as his uncle began on his second brain, a cow this time.' We found out who-ever tried...Well killed you was using Assassin drop outs.'

'Drop outs?' Terrence inquired.

'They failed their final tests, or tests in general, and were not offered a second chance.'

'According to one who we hold in custody.' Wiona said.' She was hired by a man somewhere, we're trying to look for him.'

'What is the man's name?'

'Harry S. Ford.' Maurice replied.

'Ah, the treasure hunter!' Terrence smiled.' I hired him once, he brought me a nice ancient totem once. Well not brought really, I stole it off him.'

'Why would a tomb raider hire a drop out assassin to kill a noble?' Maurice asked.

'Ah you see my beloved nephew, that's because he wanted to silence me.'

'Silence you?' Wiona asked.

'Yes, and not just me. I and four other noblemen were part of a organisation which loved archaeology.'

'Arc...arc...wha?' Malachite asked.

'Archaelogy.' Wiona explained.' It's when people dig through rock to find tombs or treasures.'

'Like mining?'

'No no, they want to uncover lost civilizations and find their wealth-'

'Like mining?'

'It's not like mining!'

'Wiona.' Maurice placed his hand on her shoulder.' Calm down, here have some coffee, we know your not a morning person.'

The Witch merely glared, but gladly took the cup and drank it's black contents.

'So...' Maurice broke the ice.' You were saying, Uncle?'

'Oh right, well me and four other lords loved funding and going on expeditions. However recently the Patrician thought our little searches were useless and demanded we seized at once.'

'Why, it's your money isn't it?' the dwarf asked.

'Not really no, tax payer money, we had a share in it, rather complicated. Buying of assassins, hiring assassins and such.'

'Fine, but how does this tie in with the assassins?' Wiona asked.

'Well one of us, Lord Herling, discovered a fantastic secret, buried by the sands of time...' Terrence smiled.' He recovered a ruin which housed the manuals to create Golems!'

The room went silent.

'What?' Maurice asked.' You mean to tell you found a way to create Golems?'

'Well not me, but Lord Herling did yes.'

'But the knowledge to create Golems was long lost, how did he come across it?' Wiona asked.

'He didn't wish to say...but he did came up with a plan.'

'A plan?'

Terrence crossed his legs, but ended picking up his right leg as it fell off.' Sorry about that.' He used some tape to tape it back on.' Ah there we go...right, our group was getting rather annoyed by the Patrician, so like all secret groups, we discussed a revolt.'

'Good luck, you cant find anyone dumb enough to revolt openly against the Patrician.' Maurice scoffed.

'Of course not, that's why we created them!'

The room went silent again.

'What?'

'As you know the Golems we know today are mostly for menial work. Builders, butchers and all that. Also they are made out of brick, not that strong for a sledgehammer. So we came up with the idea to create an army of steel golems to take over the city and perhaps all of the Disc. We weren't quite sure about that one, we have a meeting on that next Tuesday.'

'You were planning to take over the city?' Maurice shouted.

'Pretty much.' Terrence admitted.' Although sadly we were in a bit of odds with the division of the city after we would have conquered it. Everyone wanted the part where the Seamstress Guild works strangely enough...'

'Men...' Wiona rolled her eyes.

'You do know if you attacked the city, the City Watch would've gotten involved? You could have killed me Uncle.'

'I would've found a way to either warn you or take you alive.' Terrence replied.

'So, why you dead?' Malachite went back to the question.

'oh well, because of the issues, we all turned on each other it seems, two of the five were killed before me. Because I saw this coming I dabbled into dark magics we found from our previous discussions which allowed me to become...well this if I died.'

'How?' Wiona asked.

'Well this spell allowed me to duplicate my soul, and since Death can only take one soul, I could still life.'

'How come you didn't come to life AFTER you got killed?' Cheery asked.

'My other half and I couldn't agree who should go, Death was rather annoyed by this.'

A few hours earlier.

The two lords Terrence argued over their corpse as a un-aware Cheery passed by. In the corner was a robed individual with a scythe who tapped his skeletal foot rather annoyed.

And I thought I wouldn't had to deal with this again...' Death sighed annoyed.

He hated this back in the early days. Everything was more complicated then. Ritual sacrifices that made the spirits of the deceased to unruly to safely take them to the after life (Which most of the time ended with Death knocking the spirit out with the wooden bit of his scythe and drag him off), People who had different ideas of the after life and ended up killing each other for it (which meant more work) and of course cases like these.

'I have a job to do!' one of the two shouted.

'So do I!' the other replied.

'I was here first!'

'No, I was!'

Death sighed once more and placed his skeletal hand on his skull. He really didn't have time for this, there was a old woman he had to reap in ten minutes.

'Alright, enough.' Death stood up.' I want to cut this short since I have more work to do.'

'Take him!' the two pointed at each other.

'I'm thinking of a number between one and five, which is it?'

The two souls blinked.' Are you serious?'

'Deadly serious.'

The two souls looked at each other before they started laughing.

'What?'

'You made a pun!' one of the two replied.

'I did?'

'Yes, get it? Your death, and your deadly serious?'

'Oh...well I guess it's rather funny.'

'Right...' the second Terrence wiped a tear from his incorporeal body.' Give me one second...'

'Wrong.'

'What?'

'You said one, one was not the number I was thinking off.'

'I didn't mean it!'

'I was, you.' He pointed to the other one.' Which number am I thinking off?'

'Urghm...four?'

'Wrong, you.' To the first one.

'Wrong, fifty fifty chance.'

'...Five?'

'Correct, you win.'

'Yes!' the first Terrence cheered.' I win, I win!'

'Good, now come with me.'

'...what?'

'You won, you'll go to the after life, this way now.'

'But...I thought if I won I would stay here.'

Death groaned.

'I thought that to.' The second Terrence said.' You have to be more obvious.'

'Alright fine!'

He placed his hand in front of his eyes.' Eeny, meeny miny, moe...' he pointed to the two with every word.

'You cant be serious...' the second said.

'That's it!' Death shouted and slammed the scythe on the second one's head. The Second Terrence fell down and was dragged away by the annoyed Grim Reaper.

'I'm getting to old for this...' Death muttered as he and the second Terrence disappeared.

Now

'And that is how I won the game.' Terrence smiled.' The tricky part to get back into my body is another story.'

'Fantastic...' Wiona shook her head.

'So...who are the two other Lords?' Maurce asked.

'Well Lord Volder and Lord Blok are still alive, those are the prime suspects.'

'Well...' Maurce looked at his peers.' Let's find this Haris Ford and ask whom he is working for, if it's one of the two lords we got him in for murder.'

'What about Golem army?' Malachite asked.

'We'll dob the other in as well.'

'How?'

'I'll think of something...'

With a smirk Wiona stood up.' Perhaps I can be of service?'

TBC


End file.
